My Tributes to Victors
by tracelynn
Summary: A universe starting with a remake of LadyCordeliaStuart's We All Fall Down SYOT and continuing onward, with Victors being failed past tributes or new creations. A side project, and also a project to vent my feelings whenever I lose a tribute to a SYOT.
1. Kerry Selmosa, A Victor

**A/N: A short story in honor of my most recent fallen tribute, Kerry Selmosa. He recently died a second time, placing an astounding 5th out of 74. My soul is hurting. I loved him so much. So I needed to write out how I conjured up the storyline in my head so he would win. It's heart breaking for me to do this and tamper with his character, but I don't know if I'm going to submit him back to the All Stars stories anymore. Watching him survive so long just to be axed at the end by a character who doesn't even have motivation made me simmer and want to explode. Here he is, claiming the title of Victory in his original arena. I'll be calm by the time I'm done with this. Sorry if I seem volatile right now. I sort of am.**

 **Note: Inky has been extracted from this Games because I can't bear to kill her off. In her place is a girl named Franny who dies in the Bloodbath.**

 **Note II: This is Titus's Games, just like in LCS's story. Beware.**

 **Note III: All other tributes excepting Kerry and Franny belong to their respective creators.**

* * *

My fingers scrabbled across the pockmarked orange red-rock wall I was climbing across. I was happy Vextrix had been smart enough to hand me some rope to climb with after the Bloodbath. Safety, she said. I was fast paced, oblivious, energetic she said. I needed to slow down and think sometimes. So I took her advice and climbed with the rope. It was the only thing that would save me.

Darkness was falling, and what I thought was a handhold really was shadows. The Careers jeered from below as I slipped and fell two feet, but the rope saved me, as it was hooked around a piece of rock jutting from the ridge I was climbing. Climbing was my pastime, my sport, my exercise, my world. In the sprawl of Five, giant jagged orange mountains and arches rose from the ground. It was very similar to what I was climbing now. I'd climbed since I could remember. I didn't need any help. The rope was just a simple precaution. I'd never climbed in the dark, however. Sometimes new things were useful.

I kept going, passing the point from where I'd slipped. I kept climbing and climbing until the top of the spire of rock leveled out. I sat down with a huff, and tied my rope tightly around a jutting piece of rock in the middle of the flat top of the jagged mountain. The Careers' angry shouting voices echoed far below. None of them were agile enough to climb up all the way here without major help from sponsors, and even if they did try to climb up here, there were rocks around me. This spire of rock was stories high. One thrown rock, and their heads would be mush. I had pretty good aim.

They waited at the base of the spire. I knew they could wait for days until I finally slipped up from dehydration or hunger, but I felt nothing but bliss sitting atop the highest spire I'd ever climbed, looking out at the streaking sunset that was barely visible as the sky turned velvety black. The black sky melded with the orange ridges and all was beautiful, and that was all I could process. I could also tell that when it was light out, I'd be able to see almost the entire arena, including the Cornucopia. I would be able to see everyone. That would be an advantage.

Hoban's face interrupted the cool black night sky. My ally. I'd seen him die, an arrow from the Careers sprouting out of his body, his cannon shattering the crisp evening air as I hauled myself higher and higher, out of the reach of the Careers. Hoban was the only one to die today. His District Partner and our other ally, Vextrix, was also still alive. I wondered how she was faring. She and Hoban had been from Eleven, so they were decent enough with survival skills. I had a feeling Vextrix would be able to preserve herself for a while longer. I recited the tributes in my head as I prepared to sleep on the rough rocky surface of the spire top. This was another skill Vextrix had drilled into my brain. There was Karyssa from One, Valerie and Theo from Two, Electra and DeMarcus from Three, Careen and Angelo from Four, myself from Five, Titus from Six, Desiree from Seven, Granja from Nine, Vextrix from Eleven, and Peach from Twelve. I then thought back to the others that had been lost. Seven at the Bloodbath. The cocky Career boy from One who somehow died, probably via his female allies who despised him. The others to go: Addie from Six, Ash from Seven, Franny and Blaise from Eight, Diggory from Nine, and Chase from Twelve. Then the boy from Ten was gone the next day, and a couple of days later my younger District partner was in the sky. Quiola was always crying and hiding and worrying, but she'd somehow gotten a 10. I felt like she'd only gotten that not because she was strong, but because the Gamemakers wanted to target her for something the poor girl had done. The day after that, the little spitfire girl from Ten, Zinnia, was dead. And now it was the present day, the end of the sixth day of these Games, with Hoban dead. How did I know all this? I wasn't the sharpest knife in the drawer. I didn't really care about the other tributes' names when there was so much to climb around me. But there had been the long, sullen hours lying awake keeping hidden from the Careers, and I got bored. Vextrix drilled the names into our heads as a game to keep away the boredom. She was a smart girl. If anyone was going to make it out other than me, I wanted it to be her.

I feel asleep with thoughts of climbing picks and orange ridges dancing in my head.

* * *

The next morning I heard bawling and screaming. It echoed throughout the arena. I almost expected to see something to indicate where the fighting was coming from, but all I heard were insistent screams that couldn't be too far off. It was bright and sunny, already around noon. I was tired and thirsty, and the Careers were long gone. They must have decided to go hunting instead of waiting out for me, the sneaky agile boy from Five who they could never, ever catch.

I climbed down the spire. It took me half an hour to reach where we'd originally camped out near the base. I crawled into the small passage where we'd been hiding. There was still some remnants of the puddle we'd been drinking from to keep us alive. I slurped up the rest of the water; it was already purified, at least that's what Vextrix had said I think. I really had relied on her, hadn't I?

All the while, the screaming didn't stop. It was irking me, and I started twitching. I climbed down the rest of the way, and started heading towards the noise. Every fiber inside of me told me it was a bad idea to head this way, but I needed to make the screaming stop. The pain, the carrying on, the desperation in the loud feminine squeals for help were driving me bonkers. I headed towards the noise, and soon I found its source.

I clambered up a jut of rock about a story above the ground. The screams were so loud, I knew whatever was happening was on the other side of the huge boulder. I scaled it, pulling myself all the way up. I peered over the edge, and then spit up some bile.

The cannon boomed after a threw up. The boy from Six, Titus, who'd seemed to quiet and introspective, was grinning with manic glee. One of the girls, either the one from Three or Nine, was underneath him, her body bruised and bloodied. He hadn't raped her, but he'd beat her to death. And then...and then he'd started to eat her. More bile was regurgitated from my mouth as I watched Titus nibble on her fingers before using a sharp piece of rock to cut open her skull and stomach. The rest was too graphic to ever recount. This was the brutal Hunger Games, but they _had_ the be censoring this. They just had to be.

After that, I resolved to follow this boy. I didn't want to clean up his scraps or anything, but if I had the chance I would take him out. I whispered that to the cameras that night as I laid looking at the sky atop another tall spire of rock. The cannibal was slumbering nearby. The girl from Nine's face had been in the sky that night. Granja. I wasn't surprised. That girl was one of the weakest tributes left.

The next morning, my throat was itchy and dry. So was Titus's, because he kept moaning about water as he trudged around, his eyes glinting like a predator's. He was a true monster. I found a small waterfall and let Titus wander away from me. Erwin must've gotten over his annoyance with my "ADHD" or whatever they called my extroverted-ness in the Capitol, since he sent me a large metal water bottle and some iodine. It must've cost a fortune, and I thanked sponsors profusely as I filled the water bottle up to the brim and inserted one of my four iodine tablets into it. I held it in my hands as I jogged forward across the uneven terrain to catch up with Titus. I needed to keep track of this boy.

The next day, another cannon sounded, but Titus still had found no water and no food. It was risky following him. He'd almost seen me once, and if he saw me, I doubted I'd be able to face him. He was weak from hunger and dehydration, but he was off his rocker, mindless and animalistic and primal. He had more pure fury and power than any of us. I was genuinely scared of him. I wondered whose cannon had fired.

It seemed that Titus liked male meat just as much as he liked female meat. When DeMarcus, the strapping 15 year old from Three, wandered into our view, Titus went ballistic. He rushed at DeMarcus, and while DeMarcus punched and kicked hard and good, it wasn't enough. The boy folded underneath Titus's gnashing jaws, and before I knew it I was averting my eyes as the sounds of wet, ripping flesh and disgusting slurping filled my ears. Absolutely revolting.

That night, as I camped out in a cavity indented in a boulder nearby Titus's sleeping hole in the rocky dirt, I sipped some water and then watched the dead play. Both the boy and girl from Three, DeMarcus and...Electra was it? Yes, Electra. I repeated the tributes in my head again to refresh my memory. The skills I'd perfected with Vextrix and Hoban were dulling. I didn't tie my rope as tight sometimes, and I'd stopped repeating the names of the remaining tributes.

"Karyssa, Valerie, Theo, Careen, Angelo, Kerry, Titus, Desiree, Vextrix, Peach." There were so many Careers left. Something needed to happen to stop them.

* * *

A couple of days later, something did stop them.

I'd been tracking Titus relentlessly, and apparently that was enough to keep the Capitol entertained. They pestered Titus with crows and insects and sudden holes opening up in the dirt to trip him, but they never bothered me. They liked me, I hoped. They had to like me, or maybe they were tricking me so they could hit me the hardest with mutts later on. That would just suck.

Hunger was a constant pain. I rarely ate, sometimes finding scraps of meat, not human meat, but real animal meat, left behind from the Careers or some other careless tribute. There were also the few and far between edible plants that Vextrix had taught me to recognize. My stomach still hurt. But it would never hurt so bad that I would attack my fellow tributes and literally devour them in desperation. I'd kill myself before it got that bad.

Titus was getting uncomfortably close to the Cornucopia, and I tailed him reluctantly. I finally settled on a tall pillar of rock, clambering to the top and resting there. I watched Titus stumble around, and the golden Horn was well in sight. Thankfully the color of my jacket and hair blended well with the rock, disguising me. I watched as Titus got closer and closer to the Cornucopia. He was almost out in the open. He turned a corner and started heading back towards my direction, heading away from the Cornucopia, whose mouth faced me. He disappeared behind a boulder, and a cannon fired. Titus emerged from behind the boulder, and I heard shouts and a scuffle at the Cornucopia. My eyes locked there as a second cannon fired soon after the first. I had a clear view of what was going on.

The boy from Two and the girl from Four, Theo and Careen, were dead on the ground, metal cups in their hands. They must have been poisoned. The boy from Four, Angelo, had seemed sneaky and slimy. He must have done it. He lashed out, and his sword landed in the rib cage of the girl from Two, Valerie. She fell, spasming and screaming and making a racket. It was just Karyssa and Angelo, and Karyssa emptied an arrow into Angelo's chest as he tried to duck. Karyssa gathered as many supplies as she could before running from the scene. A cannon boomed as Karyssa disappeared; Valerie had stopped twitching. Angelo rolled around, moaning and groaning and trying to keep the blood in. As night fell, his cannon finally fired.

That night, the face of Theo, Valerie, Angelo, and Careen filled the sky, and I couldn't believe my luck. How many tributes were left? Only six including myself, and only one of them was a Career. I smiled as I curled up on top of a new boulder, watching Titus diligently as he curled up to sleep. Karyssa, Kerry, Titus, Desiree, Vextrix, Peach. It was easy enough now with so few of us left. They'd be interviewing Mom and Dad right now.

I grinned even wider as I fell asleep.

* * *

The twelfth day. A cannon woke me up. I grinned more. I was smiling so much these days, but that was because I was alive, and I was another step closer to Victory. Soon enough I'd be home. And if I died, at least I'd gotten to climb some of the most precarious and daring cliffs in all of Panem. Not many others could say they'd climbed the Badlands ridges of the Fortieth Hunger Games arena.

Titus seemed to catch scent of blood on the wind, because he broke out in a mad sprint north. I followed him at a light jog. My water bottle was almost empty, and I was tempted to drown the dregs of the bottle when we both stopped, but I waited a little longer. I heard a mangled cry, and looked around a boulder to see electrical pulses pushing Titus away from the corpse of the girl from Twelve, Peach. A big hatchet was lying next to her body, and I could see an extremely tall girl on the horizon staring intently at Titus, Peach, and the hatchet. Desiree had killed Peach. Titus wanted to eat Peach. I was just a simple observer.

The next morning turned out to be the day of reckoning for me. Titus and I traveled into the most treacherous parts of the arena. He stumbled and cut open his arms and legs and lapped up his own blood eagerly. I rolled my eyes. By now, I was getting used to his cannibalistic antics, no matter how vile they were. Erwin sent me a climbing pick. The point was sharp, sharp enough to slice through flesh, sharp enough to kill. It helped me climb amazingly fast.

It helped me kill Titus.

I was lounging on a spire when I heard the skirmish. I peered over the edge and saw Titus pushing Vextrix to the ground. She had a big machete in her hands, and she swung wide at him. It cut off two of Titus's fingers on his right hand, but he ignored the blood pumping out of his hand, instead using his left hand to throttle her. She squirmed and gasped out a raspy plea for help as Titus gnashed his teeth together.

I leaped down from my pillar and raced towards Titus and Vextrix. He lifted her head and banged it against a rock. She moaned loudly as he removed his hand from her throat. Ugly red marks were wrapped around it. He used both hands to bang her head against the ground again, and his blood from his cut off fingers drizzled across her face. I sneaked up behind them as they tussled weakly on the ground. They were both weak and tired from dehydration. I lofted the climbing pick into the air as Titus slammed Vextrix's head down on the rock a third time. Vextrix saw me, and rasped out weakly, "Kerry, run!"

With one slash of my pick I severed Titus's spinal cord. He flopped off of Vextrix, and a cannon boomed ominously.

I knelt beside my former ally and friend and cradled her bleeding head in my lap. Her skull was misshapen and bloody, and her eyes were already unfocused. Blood trickled out of the corner of her mouth, and she tried to say something but failed. I just held her and caressed her hair until she finally slipped away a couple dozen minutes later. Her cannon shattered the silence, and my first thought was this:

There's only three of us left.

* * *

Karyssa and Des were both stronger than me, or at least that was how things seemed. That was really how things were, and I knew it deep down. Karyssa was the strong, able Career who was one of the leaders of the Career pack before it had been foiled by Angelo. Des was a staggeringly tall girl, nearly seven feet tall, with the skills to plant a hatchet a foot deep in my chest with ease. Neither of them would have trouble taking me out in normal combat.

I took a page out of Vextrix's book and made a plan. I took a page out of Vextrix's book and thought for once.

It was the sixteenth day of the Games. I was tired and weakened from hunger and dehydration. I hadn't eaten in two days, and I hadn't touched a drop of water in nearly 24 hours. I was ready for this to end, and I knew Karyssa and Desiree had to be feeling the same way.

I made a loud racket, screaming bloody murder, on Day Sixteen at around dawn. I screamed and screamed and screamed until I couldn't anymore, and then I hauled myself up the tall pillar of rock that I had hid from the Careers on a staggering ten days prior. It felt like a lifetime ago that Hoban had died and I'd been all alone up here. It felt like a lifetime ago that I hadn't been in this arena.

A cannon fired before my voice was fully gone. Karyssa and Desiree had met up. One of them was dead. It was just one of them and me left.

I had stockpiled the most jagged, heavy rocks I could find over the past couple of days atop this spire of rock. They were piled around me, and I picked up one the size of a softball as Karyssa pranced out into the open. She inspected the base of the spire, and then hauled herself up the cliff face. She hadn't seen me yet. She was heading towards the little corridor in the stone where we'd hidden originally. She probably thought I was still lying there, that I'd done nothing this entire Games. The foolish, foolish girl. As she neared her chosen destination, I hurled the rock down at her. Thank god I was strong enough to throw a sharp hunk of rock well enough to pierce a girl's temple.

Karyssa slid off of the spire, tumbling down a story and landing with a thud and a weak moan. I slid down the rock as quickly as possible, but it still took me fifteen minutes to reach the bottom. I unhooked the climbing pick from my belt and strolled over to Karyssa. She was lying on the ground in a tight ball, moaning softly, cradling her head, unable to move. This was it. This was the moment I became a Victor.

I buried the pick in the base of her neck, puncturing her spinal cord just like I had with Titus. In minutes she was dead, and the trumpets were blasting, and the announcers were cheering my name brazenly into the arena.

I just turned away from Karyssa's body and climbed back up the rock spire. I'd meet the hovercraft at the top.

* * *

 _24th: Franny Yaern, D8F - killed by Valerie, Bloodbath_

 _23rd: Hiyas Tonto, D1M - killed by Valerie, Bloodbath_

 _22nd: Ash Black, D7M - killed by Theo, Bloodbath_

 _21st: Diggory Doe, D9M - killed by Karyssa, Bloodbath_

 _20th: Blaise Wesley, D8M - killed by Theo, Bloodbath_

 _19th: Adonia "Addie" Child, D6F - killed by Careen, Bloodbath_

 _18th: Chase Strata, D12M - killed by Karyssa, Bloodbath_

 _17th: Rory Harris, D10M - killed by Theo, Day 2_

 _16th: Quiola Cassidy, D5F - killed by dehydration, Day 4_

 _15th: Zinnia Fraser, D10F - killed by Karyssa, Day 5_

 _14th: Hoban Tam, D11M - killed by Theo, Day 6_

 _13th: Granja Valdez, D9F - killed by Titus, Day 7_

 _12th: Electra Magneta, D3F - killed by dehydration, Day 9_

 _11th: DeMarcus King, D3M - killed by Titus, Day 9_

 _10th: Theo Kasius, D2M - killed by Angelo, Day 11_

 _9th: Careen Ellis, D4F - killed by Angelo, Day 11_

 _8th: Valerie Lenn, D2F - killed by Angelo, Day 11_

 _7th: Angelo Tempest, D4M - killed by Karyssa, Day 11_

 _6th: Peach Unk, D12F - killed by Desiree, Day 12_

 _5th: Titus Gein, D6M - killed by Kerry, Day 13_

 _4th: Vextrix Webb, D11F - killed by Titus, Day 13_

 _3rd: Desiree Redwood, D7F - killed by Karyssa, Day 16_

 _2nd: Karyssa Evans, D1F - killed by Kerry, Day 16_

 _Victor: Kerry Selmosa, D5M - 2 kills (Titus & Karyssa), won on Day 16. Nickname: The Vanquisher Victor (for killing Titus)_

* * *

 **A/N: Here we have something that I wrote up in one sitting because I love Kerry so much. This will most likely have more chapters in the future exploring his personality post-Games. This should be fun to play with, but it isn't my main focus at all. I hope you enjoyed this, and review with your thoughts if you would :) I would love to know what people think of this story, especially people who read the original story, Well All Fall Down: The Fortieth Hunger Games by LadyCordeliaStuart.**

 **Until Next Time,**

 **Tracee**


	2. Incense (Inky) Balboa, A Victor

**A/N: Inky is here today! I am using LCS's All-Stars story. To spare me heart break and to fit in-universe Kerry has been switched with a random loner named Joule who happens to have randomly killed Lyte before Frankie sniped him prior to the beginning of this story. So we have Inky, Peach, Elara, Jack, Jay, Des, Vera, Emmeline, Vextrix, Apollo, Frankie, and River. How will Inky persevere? Well that's what this story is about :D**

 **P.S. This might be confusing but Inky's Games were Kerry's Games. While I didn't write her death in my portrayal of Kerry's win, in this story she died when she did in LCS's original 40th Games story, right along with Zinnia in the cave.**

* * *

I fumble with my fingers, rubbing the little pebbles from the shadowy corner of the mausoleum between them. Gray, gray, gray, gray, gray. Plop, plop, plop, plop, plop. One, two, three, four, five. I take deep breaths and count to five over and over. I counted to five for days on end and still everyone died. Alinta died. Addie died. Silver died. Mouse and Alice died as I watched, too weak to tell them to stay away from the pretty sprite woman. So many people died, so many more than five. One, two, three, four, five. Five fingers on my hands, and those fingers roll pebbles back and forth.

I hear a crack and a hiss, and I shoot up. I count the silences. One, two, three, four, five. _One, two, three, four, five! ONE TWO THREE FOUR FIVE!_

"Peach?" I warble out, and she wakes quietly, murmuring, "Huh?"

"There's someone here."

Elara strikes lightning fast, her dagger arcing through the air towards Peach. I squeal in terror and count as fast as my mind can, or else I will burn in eternal torment and Peach will be locked in the garden of death. _one two three four five. uno dos tres cuatro cinco._ No matter how fast I count, no matter if it is in Spanish, Peach cannot act fast enough. Elara's dagger slams into her abdomen, and Peach gives a wet "umph", and curls up in a small ball on the floor, holding her guts in. Elara looks towards me, but I'm already hurtling towards her, a length of rope in my hands. I tackle her, and she slams against the rough stone wall, trying to fight. I knock the dagger for her hands, and scream, "ONE TWO THREE FOUR FIVE! I WAS COUNTING ONE TWO THREE FOUR FIVE!" Elara looks at me with dark, frightened eyes as I smash her shocked form against the wall. I dig my fingers into those eyes and wrap the rope around her neck and give it a tug. "ONE TWO THREE FOUR FIVE DID YOU NOT HEAR ME?!" She tries to suck in air but cannot, and I tighten the noose even more. She flops on the ground like a fish on land, and I leave her there, twitching awkwardly, and rush to Peach's side. My only ally is dying, and when the cannon booms I blanch. But Peach is still breathing raggedly; I scurry over to Elara's side, and press my fingers to her neck. Nothing. I have killed my first person.

One, two, three, four, five. I wrap five bandages around Peach's slashed open stomach but it isn't enough, it is never enough. Peach grabs my feverishly working hands slowly, firmly, and she looks into my eyes, and I squint to get a better view of her face in the dark.

"Let go, Inky. O-o-okay? Let...let go." I slowly release my hands from where they've been pressing the wads of gauze into her wound. I know how to treat a wound and I know I was doing it wrong, but I needed to stop the blood, or in one, two, three, four, five seconds Peach would be as still as Elara beside us. I hold her and try to redress the wound but it's hopeless. I have ruined the bandages, and even then it was hopeless. Five is not a kind number. Five never works, but it is so even, so delectable. It is a better number than seventy six, the number of minutes that pass as I hold Peach and try to use the bloody scraps of cloth and bandages to save her. She doesn't complain, she just lays there and lets me try to play doctor, lets me try to be the hero. I am no able maiden in the story books, rescued from her tower and then helping the night fight off the dragon or the invaders. I am a frantic girl who counts to five in heretic prayer and killed a girl and couldn't save a second. When the cannon fires, I don't check Peach's pulse. She's stopped breathing, and the blood on her stomach is drying. I kiss her forehead and sit there for one, two, three, four, five minutes before gathering my supplies and leaving the mausoleum, which truly stinks of death now.

I don't want to find another place to rest; any place I rest will be where I find three tributes, or six, or some other unsightly number of humanoids that will flay me and tear me limb from limb like ravenous dogs. I shake, and count how many tributes are left. Ten. Nice, even. If I want to go home, there will need to be one. An awkward, okay number. Still not good. Do I want to go home? I do not know. 5th place would be respectable. 10th, even. How many did we start with? 74? Couldn't they have added someone else, like that nice girl Granja from my Games? Made it a nice, even 75?

I hear screams after hours of wandering through the eternally damp, dank, dark graveyard slumber night. I hunker down behind a tombstone and watch with horror as Vera and Frankie, the strongest tributes left, turn in confusion as rocks and things are pelted at them. They're looking in the wrong direction, towards me sort of, and I see a huge silvery axe emerge out of a fuzzy shape behind them, the thing throwing the rocks. Frankie turns to see the axe whistling right towards his temple, and he does not even react when the top half of his skull is loped off and a cannon fires. I try not to throw up, and Vera screams. I sink into the open grave next to me, and curl up in a ball, pulling debris over me. I hear metal against metal and aggravated cries and finally a cannon. I peek over the edge of the grave, and see Vera stumbling away from the place where Frankie and Desiree lay, dead, holding the stump of her right hand, which is hopefully her fighting hand, it must be. Her eyes lock on mine, and I sink further into the grave. She starts towards me, and I prepare for death. Eighth is...better than other numbers and placements. But Vera stops short and leaves after she stumbles. She must be disoriented from blood loss, and her little medic boy is dead. I wait for one, two, three, four, five minutes five times until the fear gets back down to the normal level of Hunger Games fear and I can function. I scuttle out of the grave. The bodies of Des and Frankie are already gone, and so is Vera. I let out a rattling breath and thank my lucky stars. I have five of them.

* * *

Crouching behind the grave marker, I eye the Cornucopia nestled between the strange angel statues. I remember the initial confusion, the huge flying mutts picking off tributes left and right. I ran straight away, and now here I am, right back at the start. The faces of Elara, Peach, Frankie, and Des played several hours ago. I am thirsty, and there must be water at the Cornucopia. Due to the initial confusion, there must be some stuff left. No one would dare camp out there, but I think, I hope, at least, that the Gamemakers want to see the stupid plan I have contrived. I ask them quietly to let me go into the Horn in peace five times, and then I burst from my hiding place and lope quickly towards the Cornucopia.

Once I am inside the mouth, nothing attacks me, no one lunges towards me. I search through empty crates and half full backpacks and find a couple of bottles of water. More valuable than those, however, are the three things I find in the back of the Horn. A big metal bear trap. Batteries. And a big, bright red toy car. I pick them up and grin bigger than I ever have. It's like a little mini Feast all for myself.

I grab a huge burlap sack and drag my newfound toys away from the Horn. I settle down in a mausoleum near the Horn, and then I sit down and look at my supplies. It's not my original plan at all; I was planning to rig some traps to confuse the other tributes enough to get them to be so disoriented I could strike. But with these seemingly useless goodies, I can win the Games. I will win them. It will just take...five kills on my part? Hopefully less, but I am never opposed to the number five. If I make four more kills, maybe I will be forgiven for the deeds I have done, and maybe the world won't shatter and break.

As I am rigging up the bear trap in the mouth of the Horn some time later, I hear a cannon shatter the stillness of the arena. Several hours later, Vera shows up in the sky and I stare at her pretty face incredulously. Vera...Vera is dead. So are Desiree and Frankie. Peach and all the others are dead too, granted, but three of the strongest players left in the arena are gone. It is myself, Apollo, Emmeline, Jay, Jack, River, and Vextrix. Some of them are rather smart. Emmeline and Vextrix might not fall for my trap. Hopefully someone else will take them out. I return to the Horn after some thought.

Hiding inside the Horn, wreathed by shadows, I perk up once I hear the sound of rocks underfoot. I look up and see Jay Dallas weaving his way past the Horn. He looks curiously at the Cornucopia, and I wonder if I will even have to bait him. He starts towards the Horn but turns around and decides not to. Should I pull the old screamer like Kerry did last year, or should I try out my little race car?

 _Vroom vroom._ The cherry red Ferrari zips out of the Horn and circles around Jay. My fingers swirl across the joystick, and Jay swipes at the car with his machete and misses. He pursues it dumbly, pure instinct telling him to follow the strange bright red target. I drive the car towards myself, and it clatters into the back of the Horn. Jay is hot in pursuit. He doesn't see me although he is fifteen feet away. He steps into the mouth of the Horn, into the shadows.

 _Snap. Crack. AUGGGH!_

Jay weeps pitifully as I stride over to him. His entire left leg is trapped in the bear trap, and he moans weakly, the pain from his mangled leg blocking out everything else. His machete has fallen from his hands, and he begs for me to stop. I lift the thick knife and sever his spinal cord on his neck. The cannon shatters the world around me. Two down, three more to go. Jack, River, Apollo are my targets. Emmeline and Vextrix will be taken out by others. Wow, only...five, yes five, others left. One, two, three, four, five. I haven't counted to five in hours. Five of them, no more. Five isn't essential, is it? It provides, comfort however.

As I walk out of the Horn after unhooking the trap from Jay's leg and putting it in my burlap sack, waiting for the hovercraft to retrieve Jay's body, I count to five slowly, trying to stay positive. If I get home, I can make my entire house a library. Only Tillo lives in Eight's Victor's Village. I can convert the house next door to mine into a library. That will work, and all the kids in the District who want unprecedented access to literature can come to Inky's Books and pick up free titles. A charity; running a bookstore, maybe writing or reading, can be my talent. I imagine living in a cozy bookstore with a small smile on my face, friends and family and maybe even a...boyfriend? Chil...children? In my first Games I was optimistic but deep down I knew I was never making it out. I'm happy Kerry did, he deserved it, but...back then I knew I didn't stand a chance. Now, with no Careers, with five others left, I can formulate my future. It may be for nothing, and it probably will be, but what's wrong with clinging onto newfound hope? She is an elusive creature, after all. You must hang on tight when she comes into your grasp and decides to stay. I can think about a husband and friends thanks to the sacrifice of my alliance. They kept me alive long enough for me to discover my true purpose.

I circle back towards the Horn, but I am too restless. We still probably have close to a good week left in this arena, and I'll probably die, but I just want this to end. Would that be too much to ask? I voice my question aloud, and in response minutes later Harlequin's merry voice, tinted by something like grief, comes over the arena speakers. I listen intently, sitting the mouth of the Cornucopia.

"In twelve hours, a Feast will commence at the Cornucopia. There is something all of you need there. There are twelve bright green stars in the sky; when the last star is gone, the Feast has become. Attendance is not mandatory. Good fighting, tributes." Her voice clicks off, and I find myself springing to my feet. I grab a spade from one of the crates of seemingly useless supplies, the supplies that are good for me. The spade is smaller but sturdy, and I dig deep into the mushy soil outside the mouth of the Horn. Soon a huge pit is opening up before me. I throw a crate in to use as a device to climb out on, and then I step into the pit. It only comes up to my waist, so I dig deeper. By the time my head is an inch past the ground's surface, there are only three green stars left. No one else has come to the Horn yet. Knowing the players left, all of them will probably either abstain or come right as the last star winks out.

No one has come to the Cornucopia since the start. Things only semi-important have been left. The machetes and water jugs were the things people fought over and grabbed as they ran like crazy. They left the crates, the coils of rope, the little green glass bottle of poison that could kill a man in under ten minutes with its deadly toxins. I use a sharp dagger to dice apart the crates and sharpen their points. Once I have fifteen stakes, less than I want but just enough to function, I undo the stopper on the poison and let the poison drip out. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. A small ritual, five drops of deadly poison onto my stakes. I gingerly take them into the pit one by one, moving fast but slow. I dig small furrows into the ground and place the base of the stakes in, and then pat the ground down around the stake so it will stay standing. With time running out I finish my punji stick trap. I drag a flimsy net over it from the back of the Cornucopia, and then I am tearing at the muck of land around the Cornucopia, scooping up mud and weeds and sticks and rocks and smoothing them out over the net. The last star seems to flicker above me as I finish concealing the pit. I retreat into the shadows of the Horn, and several minutes later the table bearing six packs rises up. I grab mine quickly before falling back. The table is a pace behind my hidden trap. The darkness plus its decent concealment will disguise it well enough.

I open my pack. A cursory bottle of water and an energy bar; I already have enough supplies here to last me a week with fair rationing. There's also a dart gun with five metal darts. I dip their silvery tips in my jar of lethal poison and thank Tillo silently. I wonder if she still thinks I will die. One, two, three, four, five times she told me I would die my first Games, this time only twice. It was uncomfortable and uneven; I almost asked her to tell me of my imminent demise thrice more so it could even out and I would be happy. I hunker down and wait. I want to open the other packs, to see what the others need and analyze whatever hardships my competitors are facing, my five competitors, even, nice, but that time will come.

Apollo is the first as I expected. He seemed like he'd be foolish enough to come, maybe, and if he did so he'd get here as fast as he could. I quickly realize my mistake, that the District Eight pack is gone, but there's nothing I can do. As Apollo walks towards the table, holding bags marked _3, 7, 11, 11, 12._ He creeps closer to the bags, and suddenly Jack springs out of nowhere from one of the sides of the Cornucopia. I gasp and cover my mouth, but neither boy hears me as they wrestle. Jack lifts up his machete and whacks it down on Apollo's neck, slicing in again and again. Apollo struggles and gurgles out blood, and with one last desperate push he shoves Jack off of him. Jack lands with a crash on the top layer of my punji stick trap. He howls as he lands on the sharp stakes and they slice into his skin. A cannon fires; Apollo's chest has fallen still. I creep to the edge of the pit and watch quietly as Jack twitches. He's bloody and weak from weeks of living in the arena like the rest of us, and in one, two, three, four, five minutes the poison's got him. I watch with silent satisfaction, and then I pull off the other packs from the table. Only Emmeline, River, Vextrix, and myself left. I might have to take out one of the smart ones. I've killed three; I should stop at five, it's even, it's nice. Emmeline's pack has batteries and a coil of copper wire, River's has bundles of food, Vextrix's has a book and a water bottle, Apollo's has cookies and a dagger, and Jack's has a machete and a picture of an aging, motherly looking woman. I eat some of the food and drink some of the water and toss away the things that don't mean anything to me like Jack's photograph or Vextrix's book about teddy bears. I feel a twinge of guilt for destroying things probably made to deeply motivate the others, but guilt is not important this late in the Games. It is entirely insignificant.

I reassemble my punji stick trap and lay in wait.

* * *

Five days later, I'm starting to run out of food and water despite my careful rationing. I seem to have overestimated the amount of extra food left in the crates. I am relieved when I hear a cannon, but I also hear the screams accompanying it. I step around my punji trap, a precarious thing. I almost fall in. Then I dash towards the screams, still continuing. My dart gun is held tight in my right hand, and I lift it as five minutes later I stumble into an area with a huge white obelisk marking some rich aristocrat's grave. The three names carved on it chill me to the bone.

 _Vextrix Webb_

 _Emmeline Blythe_

 _Incense Balboa_

 _River Summers_

A slain Emmeline lies nearby, an exact replica of herself except with rotting flesh and dead, gray eyes and missing teeth gnawing at her still warm flesh. The screams are far off now, but I can see River running from a poltergeist just like her. It's chucking huge rocks at her and she's narrowly avoiding them. One smacks into River's head and she falls, weeping. The poltergeist leaves her as blood trickles out of the corner of her mouth. The obelisk begins to glow and I'm already running away; I've awoken some beast destined to end me. Vextrix will be the Victor without any finale kills, the Victor by default, just because she wasn't curious enough to inspect the screams and the glowing white obelisk which sentenced certain doom.

As I run past River, I waste a dart on her. It digs into her bloody temple, and in moments the poison sets in and she's gone, her intense internal cranial bleeding speeding up the poisoning process. Four killed, one left. I realize, then and there, that I am in the Final Two, and I am absolutely floored.

I turn around once, and see the huge rock golem, spitting clouds of dark gray soot, its fiery eyes intimidating. A huge gray-green serpent emerges from the obelisk as well and twines its way across the graves and weeds towards a mausoleum nearby where a girl is folded on the roof, trying to breathe steadily. Vextrix. It must be her. It simply has to be her; there's no one else left unless I've calculated incorrectly.

I run towards her, and the golem slows. They know I'm up for the fight. There is no more time for traps or tricks, just a little poisoned dart heading towards Vextrix's heart. In case she has some traps rigged up around her, I stop fifteen feet from the mausoleum. She's spotted me, and she rises, hauling herself off the roof after a moment's consideration. I fire, and the dart nicks her elbow. She sees the green sheen of poison sinking into her skin and knows she has just a little time before it claims her, just a little time to kill me so the Capitol doctors can save her. She rushes towards me, and I fire another dart. It misses. I only have two left. I fire a fourth, and it hits her boot. I can't tell if it hits the skin. I keep the last dart and run. I just have to stay alive for a couple more minutes, until Vextrix's body succumbs to the poison coursing through her veins by this point.

I run, zig zagging. Vextrix has a machete and she is faster than me by a good amount of speed. She quickly gains on me, and tackles me like a football player. Her movements are becoming sluggish, slow, and she stifles a yawn as she raises her machete. She brings it down, but the poison in her arm makes her shake. It cleaves deep into my shoulder, and I scream. I'm pinned underneath Vextrix but I shove my knee into her crotch. She recoils, hissing, and I lift my arm, the arm holding the dart gun. It hurts like hell and I'm nearly paralyzed with fear and worry, but I manage to squeeze my finger onto the trigger at point blank range. The dart sinks into Vextrix's forehead, piercing her skull. She's gone in five seconds, five little, weary, terrible seconds as she crumples at my feet, gray and dead and defeated like seventy two others. I have my five kills. Nice, even. Five is good, five is okay. It's okay that I murdered if it was in an increment of five. It's okay that I murdered. I still sing "One, two, three, four, five" until the hovercraft comes anyway. Old habits die hard.

* * *

 **A/N: I should have worked on BMO or Bite Size but I felt like doing this instead xD Inky is my baby child and I adore her and I hope this did her the justice she deserves. Now she joins Kerry and they're both alive and well as Victors and will probably become friends! xD I hope you enjoyed this, and please drop a review if you can. It would be helpful :D**

 **Until Next Time,**

 **Tracee**


	3. Bison Seville, A Victor

**A/N: Here we have the third installment to this series, about the little Bloodbath boy I created for Oceanside, 13 year old Bison Seville of District 10. Happy reading, and please review if you can! This starts right from the beginning of the Games since, well, Bison died 24th xD**

* * *

As the countdown dwindled, I began to shake so bad I knew I was going to fall off of my platform. Well, I wasn't actually going to, but I was scared. Hailea was only two pedestals down, and she tried to cheer me up with a small smile, but it just made me queasy. I had been planning to run in and grab a few supplies against my alliance's wishes, just so I wouldn't be dead weight like Cameron, Liv, and even Hailea sort of herself. I didn't want Camillie and Catherine to have to carry all of us, and anyway, even Catherine wasn't much more help than the rest of us. I could see Camillie steeling herself; she was too nice of a girl, and even then she was only fifteen, but she seemed like she was so much older. I couldn't run in; I just couldn't. Everything started to fog in my mind and the moment the gong rang, I bolted out of pure instinct. I dashed off into the foliage on the dunes and kept running and running and running. I was crying, tears dripping down my face, and I heard shouts behind me. Was it the strong kids who probably had killed everyone else already? I turned around, and I gasped as I saw Camillie sprinting over the dunes with a pack in her hands, shaking herself, trying not to cry. I ran to her instinctively, and then we sprinted together into the jungle.

We climbed a tree and sat in some of the lower branches. Camillie set down the pack and started to cry softly. I put my hand on her arm, trying to comfort her, but I didn't even know what was wrong. I'd just have to ask.

"What's wrong?" I asked her, cocking my head.

"They're all gone," Camillie whispered. "I think Liv got away, but...the twins and Hail, they're dead."

The words sit uncomfortably between us. This girl is no savior. She's just a nice fifteen year old girl with a little sister she wants to go home to, and she just took pity on us, thinking she could be some hero and bring one of us home to redeem herself and show her little sister that she was more than another girl from Twelve. I gripped Camillie's hand tight as we sat there in silence. At night, the cannons fired, seven of them in a row, and Camillie started to sob again. The faces of Catherine and Cameron and Hailea were in the sky, as well as the faces of the boys from Nine, Eleven, and Twelve and the girl from Eight. It was a pretty big Bloodbath compared to most years, but that was just because there'd been lots of young kids this year like myself, and the dead twins and Hailea. All three of them were twelve; they were the only ones, I think. Yeah, the only ones. I huddle up to Camillie as it begins to drizzle cold rain and night takes its full hold. She doesn't object, and I snuggle up against her and fall asleep in due time.

* * *

When we wake up, it's only been a couple of hours since we fell asleep. A cannon's fired, and the rain is coming down in sheets and whipping around like crazy as the wind gusts in, snapping huge branches off of trees like they're toothpicks and throwing animals and plants into the air. Thank god Camillie and I strapped ourselves onto the tree with rope from her pack, or we'd be injured, maybe even dead. Another cannon fires, and I look at Camillie, worried.

"We have to find better shelter," Camillie murmured. "This rope won't hold forever."

We waited for a little bit to see if the winds would die down. They weren't; if anything, they got even more brutal. Finally, Camillie tugged on the rope and undid the knot. The moment the rope was loose, the wind snapped it away, and it almost blew the two of us out of the tree. Camillie and I clung to one another and braced ourselves against on another, and we slid haphazardly down the trunk. I slashed my palms open on the bark, but at least I didn't fall.

The next hours were living hell as we crawled through the mud and decay on the forest floor as the rain drenched us and turned us cold and sopping wet and the wind made it hard for us to make forward movement. As we crawled, towards the buildings nestled on the western side of the arena that would surely provide better protection, three more cannons fired. Finally, the winds and the rain were too much. It felt like tiny bullets were slamming into my cheeks and every other piece of exposed skin as the rain pelted me, and the wind was like a whip snapping everywhere. I almost got blown away from Camillie, and I screamed and held onto her foot and pulled myself to her. As the winds and rains finally died down as dawn broke across the horizon, we found ourselves at the edge of the jungle. We huddled at the edge, and I looked at Camillie incredulously as a sixth cannon fired.

"Look," I whispered, pointing as the hovercraft descended and retrieved the sixth body from the dunes. Brilliant golden hair cascaded down, and Camillie gasped. Only one girl had hair like that. Serephina Manchas of District Two. The girl who scored an 11. A storm had killed her.

That night, as we prepared to make a night trek out to the buildings just in case the storms came sometime later down the road in the Games, the faces played in the sky. First up was the girl from One, then Serephina. I smiled. She seemed like a nice girl, but she could also throw a spear smack dab into my pupil without exertion. The storms had probably killed her, and I was thankful. The boy from Two, the girl from Four, and the boy from Five were also in the sky! Later, after the Games, I learned that the boy from One, the murderous Cephas, had taken advantage of the storm and had slaughtered all of his disconcerted allies. After the boy from Five, Liv's face was in the sky. Later I learned that Liv broke her neck falling from a tree she was resting in during the storm, and she quickly died. Camillie and I were the last two of our original alliance left. Camillie sighed and motioned for me to follow her. Eleven of us left, only on the second day. I had a feeling the Gamemakers wanted this one to end quickly after the twenty two day saga of Calla Espenson and Garry Manchas during the previous year. I would rather it be over quick, too. That way I'd die or go home quicker and not have to suffer as much.

The day had been calm, sunny skies and hot breezes drying everything up. I was clean and dry and felt good. My clothes and shoes were no longer soggy, and I felt warm. The Gamemakers were intent on changing that. Soon after Camillie and I got within the area of the pools, restaurants, and the huge tower, it began to pour again. There was no crescendo like last time. One moment it was dry and sunny, and the next clouds burgeoned out of nowhere and began to shower violently down on us. It thundered; it hadn't done that before. Camillie and I sprinted towards the hotel, the most stable looking building, as lightning cracked through the air. The winds quickly kicked up, and they screamed past me, leaving wind burn on my cheeks. Tears pricked my eyes but were whipped away by the gusts. Finally, oh thank the heavens, which were actually tormenting us at the moment, we reached the hotel. We ducked inside the lobby. I fell to my knees in relief, sucking in dry breaths. But rain still poured in through the cracked windows and open front doors, and the lobby was chilly and damp. Camillie looked at the twisting stairwells to the upper floors of the building, and then at the stubby stairwell into the basement. She beckoned for me to follow her, and she drew out the sickle she'd grabbed from the Bloodbath as she crept down the stairs. Her shoes squeaked against the metal and she cringed with every step. She waited at the corner, and I huddled beside her. I had no weapon, but I picked up a small stone that had gotten stuck in my shoe. It wouldn't do anything, but it felt good to feel as if I were really ready to prepare myself. What if that One boy, angry with the loss of his allies, was waking up and ready to kill us in anger. We heard soft footsteps padding around the corner, and the head of a tired boy peeks around the corner, a rusty pipe in his hands.

Camillie leaped forward, and I crouched down, refusing to watch as Camillie slashed at the sleepy boy with her sickle. She cuts open his stomach three times, and he groaned, dropping the pipe. He pushed off of her and tried to run, blood gushing out of his stomach wounds. Camillie watched as he stumbled out of the front doors and collapsed on the cement as the rain and wind battered him, blood pooling around him. His cannon fired a couple of minutes later, and by that time Camillie and I had entrenched ourselves in the deep recesses of the hotel's basement, pulling boxes and other clutter around ourselves. She used an old, faded bedspread to cover us up. Our smaller, thin bodies fit well underneath the thick quilt. She began to sing soft songs to herself, and I listened and let them lull me to sleep.

* * *

In the basement, we didn't even bother to look at the faces that filled the sky. We didn't even bother to move from our nest in the dry corner of the basement. We had enough food and water to last us more than a week with the tough way Camillie was rationing everything. I barely noticed the days changing; the basement was always dark and dank and quiet. Cannons fired, almost all of them at night, and one by one our competition dwindled. On the seventh day, another cannon fired, and Camillie frowned. I propped myself up on her elbows, and asked her what was wrong.

"That was the twenty first cannon, Bison. There's only one other tribute left."

Suddenly the ground began to quake, and we heard screams from above and the screeching of metal. We stumbled out of the basement to see Christopher of Four tumbling down the stairs. Camillie snatched up her sickle and sprinted at him as he tried to stand and grab his dagger, which laid a couple of feet away from him. He was too slow, and he groaned as Camillie stabbed him in the chest twice. His cannon rang ominously, and Camillie smiled, standing up, blood coating her front. She tossed the sickle to me, and I yelped, dodging it. But she was throwing it to me, not at me. She wanted me to fight and kill her.

"I have a plan," she whispered. "Chase me."

She rocketed up the stairs, spewing curses about how her sickle missed me. With no other choice but to follow, I galloped up the stairs after her. The wind and rain bursted through the shattered windows and open doors into the bedrooms and halls and stairwells. Camillie kept running, and she was faster than me. I was running out of breath, but we were near the top of the stairs. Finally, we reached the roof. The wind and rain battered us, but it settled down. They wanted us to have our epic final showdown. Camillie smiled sadly at me, and she let me corner her on the roof.

"Push me," Camillie whispers when I'm close, so quiet I wonder if the audience can hear. "I've always wanted to fly."

I shake my head; she can't be sacrificing herself for me. She smiles sadly.

"I'm not brave enough to go home, Bison. I've killed people. Wendy will never look at me the same way." And with that, Camillie steps onto the ledge at the edge of the roof. The rain and wind totally fall away, and Camillie tries not to cry.

"I love you Wendie," she murmurs, and then she turns around and flashes me one more hopeful smile before diving off of the roof. I scream and leap after her, but I catch myself before I fall. Hanging from the ledge of the roof, weeping pitifully, I hear the snap and crackle of Camillie hitting the cement too many stories below. I let myself drop, too, but the hovercraft appears out of nowhere and locks its claws around me after I've fallen a couple of stories. I look at the mess of Camillie's remains on the ground, and all I can do is cry. I didn't kill anyone. I pulled a Uriah Matherton. Camillie should have gone home. She worked for it. I just rode on her coattails to Victory. I collapse once I'm inside the hovercraft and refuse to move; the doctors have to carry me as I struggle to the medical room to check over my vitals and see if I'm okay. All I am is a little dehydrated and a little starved. I don't have a scratch on me. I never had to fight; I never had to kill. I just cry and scream and kick and then I'm nothing, because I just can't do anything any more.

* * *

At the Crowning, I was shocked to see the blindsides and plotting and skills of the other tributes. Chen and Cephas played a dangerous week long game of cat and mouse and Steale hanged himself after killing Andi and Caitlin shot Chen's brains out with her bow before Christopher threw her out of a window while she was searching the hotel floor where he was hiding out. Then there's Camillie and myself, hiding and sniffling under a pile of blankets in a dark basement. And I won, and she was the runner up. It doesn't make any sense. When Snow crowns me he looks bored and dissatisfied. My crown is thin, made of silver with two teardrop shaped sapphires that look like the rain, and two round emeralds that look like Camillie's too caring eyes. I hate that crown.

On my Victory Tour, I give tiny bits of sympathy to Four and Eight, but it was Camillie who killed Burlap and Christopher, not me. At Twelve, however, I stand on the stage and I cannot speak. I don't really care about Walter and his huge family; that kid had so little chance of winning. Then again, I was the same. No one expected the skinny, pitiful thirteen year old from Ten to win. All the other tributes expected to stand on the stage at the Victory Tour in Ten and stare into the hollow eyes of my father and my sister Gazelle and gives empty apologies. Now it's me. But I can't say anything, because I see Camillie's parents, soft faced and caring just like her, ignoring me and huddled around their weeping little girl. Wendie. She looks at me with her big green eyes, filled with tears, the exact same eyes that Camillie had, and I can see how much she hates me, and I want to cry myself and tell her how sorry I truly am.

Once I get back to Ten, I'm overjoyed to be free of my Mentor Tassel and Escort Kasia. At least Tassel is human, but she's fake and so patriotic its disgusting. And Kasia...she's loud and bright and joyous and I don't need to see her. I move into the empty Victor's Village with Dad and Gazelle. We build the nicest ranch in the District behind the Village and buy the best horses. I take riding up as my talent, and Gazelle and Dad are happy. But me? Riding isn't fun. I now have two dozen of my own horses, and none of them like me. I don't like any of them either. My happiness is hollow and false. The only two things that give me a sliver of true happiness is seeing my family happy themselves and sending a quarter of my Victor's earnings to the Montegro's every year. It's more than enough to lift them out of poverty. I never send a letter asking them how they're doing. I never visit them. I send the money. It's all I can do to commemorate Camillie.

* * *

 **A/N:** **I hope you liked this portrayal of Bison and Camillie! I had to make it sort of out there and have lots of natural deaths for Bison to even come close to winning, so I made the monsoons/hurricanes/typhoons, whatever you want to call them. If Camillie hadn't been mine you guys know she might've won, because she's even more than she is here, but I really enjoyed revisiting her, and I can't wait to get to the chapter where I get to write Camillie's Victory! :)**

 **Please review with your thoughts! :)**

 **Until Next Time,**

 **Tracee**


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